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“I feel like he thinks he needs to be.” I took a pull of my berry drink and chewed through the mouthful. “I wonder what his wife was like.”
“Does he remember he was married around you?”
I shot her a disgruntled scowl. “Other than some thumb circles I don’t think he knew he was doing, he’s kept his distance. He works more because I’m around.”
“He works more because he’s attracted to you.”
“His wife died less than a year ago.”
Thelma sighed and went to the counter to refill her coffee. The galley kitchen was right off the dining area. The whole apartment was smaller than the bedroom I had shared with Frederick. “Grief is different for everyone. Some people lose their partner, realize life is short, and find love again within months. Others know they’ll never get over it. Ever.” If Thelma were anyone else, I’d cross to her and hug her, but she’d only get uncomfortable. Showing emotion was tough for her. Sometimes when she talked about Grandma, her pain was as fresh as the morning we lost her, and she’d retreat to the bedroom for a couple hours. “And some guys know an opportunity when they see it.”
Her remark smarted more with Frederick in my history. “I’m not on the market, so it doesn’t matter. He’s my employer, and that’s all the control he has over me.”
She gestured with the coffee pot from a machine that looked identical to what the diner had to the couch where I had slept. “I can tell you’re being cautious.”
My newly purchased clothing was in a pile on an end table. The suitcase was open underneath, filled with the belongings I’d smuggled out but that were shoved over. It looked like I could dump the pile into the suitcase, zip it up, and run. Even my toiletry bag was packed, only taken out when I used it.
Was Thelma offended I lived like I was ready to bolt while I was here?
Habits were hard to break, and I’d leave before I caused her any trouble.
“You taught me to be smart.”
“Because you grew up knowing instability.” Regret darkened her expression. “Anyway, I wasn’t sure about Cody Knight, but the fact that he’s trying so hard to ignore you...gives him a few extra points.”
Hmm. A begrudging acceptance from Thelma? That wasn’t easy. “I’ve only known him a week.”
She grunted. “He’s a guy. Still a strike against him.”
I chuckled. “I’d better head over. He’s probably got the kids lined up in their formal wear.”
“Betcha his wife was a stickler for looks and propriety.”
“She was a lawyer.” Of course a guy like Cody would go after a smart, successful woman. If we’d crossed paths in another timeline, he wouldn’t have looked beyond my superfluous dancing before he wrote me off.
“Don’t mean nothin’.”
But it did. Was that why I had let Frederick ingrain himself so far into my life? Guys like him didn’t take up with burlesque dancers. A lot of men saw dancers, actresses, and strippers as a good time—not someone for a long time.
I wanted a partner in life. I’d grown up seeing Mom’s terrible relationships, but I’d also had the steady presence of Thelma and Grandma. I wanted the trust. The closeness. The ride or die.
“I’ve gotta get going. Love ya, Thel.”
I got another grunt in return. “Love you too, doll face. Be smart out there. He didn’t balk at you doing burlesque for a reason.”
He had taken the news without much reaction. Thelma was suspicious. I should be, too, but I was curious about his reasoning.
I left and jogged down the stairs, landing at the bottom and doing a passé hop. Tinkles of silverware on plates and cups hitting tabletops filled the stairwell. The cloying grease smell that stuck to the walls was growing familiar, but I’d be glad to get away from it.
Outside, clouds covered the sky, and the scent of rain filled the air. The sidewalk and street were wet. Hopefully, everything would dry by the afternoon, when we had a dance party. I lingered by the theater.
Wouldn’t it be nice to bring the kids here to practice? I could put on a real performance, even join in.
But I didn’t have money to rent the place or buy costumes, and all I had of my own equipment were the undergarments that had been packed in the suitcase I’d fled LA with. The garments weren’t exactly appropriate for a kids’ ensemble performance.
Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my rainbow maxi skirt—long enough to cover the small scratches so Grayson wouldn’t stress—I walked to the old farmhouse. I’d tossed on a white tank top, but I should’ve packed a light cardigan. Shivering, I hugged my arms around myself.
I knocked lightly before I entered. Someone had been unlocking the door before I arrived each morning.
